


Hedgecrossing: The Men of Letters Bunker

by bwandrz



Series: Hedgecrossing [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Big Brother Winchesters, Catch up to the end of season 12 before reading, Depression, Everything that's important will be covered in this fic at some point, Fairy Tail (mentioned) - Freeform, I'm dating a monster, Just a tad bit of history in chapter one so you're not confused if you haven't played the game, Magic, POV Crowley, POV Dean, POV Female Character, POV First Person, POV Sam, POV Third Person, Part 3 of the Hedgecrossing Series, Profanity, Requip magic, Stand alone stories that are connected, Starts somewhere in season 10, There are literally no ships, You don't have to read the others if you don't want to, the brothers don't know, undertale - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-24
Updated: 2017-10-18
Packaged: 2019-01-04 16:06:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12172239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bwandrz/pseuds/bwandrz
Summary: A fictional depiction of my journey through depression in stand alone stories that are connected.After a drunken attempt at having some "quality time" with my boyfriend it somehow turns into a fight. Marching out of the room, I end up crossing worlds, and walking into the Men of Letters bunker. I stumble through the dim halls to find a confused Sam and Dean Winchester. Looks like using the First Blade and obtaining the Mark of Cain inside the Void affected their timeline after all. Now the brothers are determined to transfer the mark back to Dean and help me get home. My only problem is we've got quite a few baddies interested in my unique abilities, and Dean and I aren't getting along one bit. Especially when he finds out I'm dating a monster.





	1. Whatever You Say, Sailor Moon

**Author's Note:**

> These don't necessarily have to be read in order if there's a particular fandom you're not interested in. Anything important that happens will be covered in the one you're reading, but fair warning, there will be spoilers! I recommend you check them all out because I've put my heart and soul into these. Having said that, please read my journey!

Sam exhaled, trying his best to keep the noise to a minimum, the dust in the air flowing into his lungs as he inhaled. The blood running down the side of his face stuck to him, along with a thick layer of dust from the table he’d fallen into.

“Dean?” His voice came out in a choke. He cleared his throat, and tried again, this time his brother’s name coming out louder, more clear. “Dean!?”

Smoke evaporated as he exhaled again, and he gripped the iron rod in his hands. He spun around, swinging it straight through Old Man Jenkins, the ghost of an elderly black man who previously owned the house. He turned into mist, burning and fizzing out as Sam let out a sigh of relief. He called out again, “DEAN!?!”

The loud, clattering of metal against the hardwood floor shot his attention towards the back of the house. He ran, his boots clomping until he found Dean on the floor on his face in the laundry room. 

“Dean…?” He said it again. Beside him was an open hole in the floor, and an open grave. A pile of bones lied in the opening. Sam could see the sprinkled salt across it, but Dean lied in a daze on the floor, lighter in hand.

“Sammy?” He said, his gruff voice low. 

“What happened?”

He shook his head silently, his mouth agape. “I dunno…” Dean slowly turned his dead eyes towards his brother, but began to scramble. He grabbed the sawed off shotgun that lied on the floor next to him. Sam ducked down as Dean held the gun up, shooting rock salt shrapnel above him. Sam looked over his shoulder as Old Man Jenkins faded into nothing again. Dean grunted, “Doesn’t know when to quit…”

He flipped open the lighter, the orange glow the only color in the room. “Hasta la vista, bitch.” Dean said as he dropped the lighter into the hole. The gasoline ignited, and the flames reached up above the floorboard. The apparition of the cantankerous ghost appeared, his body engulfed in flames. His translucent, burning flesh grew up his body, and he let out an anguished scream as his spirit finally passed on. 

Sam let out the breath of air he’d been holding in as he turned back to look at Dean, who posed on the floor with his arm placed on his propped up knee. He raised his eyebrows, his smug expression ticking Sam off instantly. 

“What the hell was that about?” Sam said in an exasperated breath, arms outstretched. 

“What? We got ‘em, didn’t we?” Dean rolled his eyes, getting up from the floor.

“You looked like you saw a ghost--”

“Really?” Dean scoffed as he adjusted the sleeve of his flannel shirt, raising a brow.

Sam let out a frustrated puff of air through his nose, his jaw clenched. “You know what I mean.”

Dean shrugged, extending an arm as he spoke. “Look, I don’t know, okay? I felt light headed all of a sudden, and my arm burned, and I fell on the floor, alright?” 

“Was it the mark?”

“I said I don’t know--”

“Dean!” 

“Sammy, let it go!” 

The two stared at each other silently before they both sighed. Dean walked around the burning grave and past Sam through the doorway. Sam followed him, reluctantly, and said, “I’m just worried, alright? I mean… After what happened to Randy and those other--”

Dean shook his head, a weak smile forming. “I’m fine.” 

Sam rolled his eyes, unsure why he was surprised. They stepped outside and Sam wondered if they should put out the fire so the house wouldn’t burn down. He decided against it. The house rested on the outskirts of town surrounded by a red clay yard. The fire posed no threat, and Sam was ready to get back to the bunker and take a hot shower. 

“Ah, my baby’s okay!” Dean said, his voice the polar opposite of what it was before. He gently patted the Impala’s trunk as he walked around to the driver’s side of the car. Red clay stuck to the bottoms, and tires. “You’re gonna get a bath tonight.” He quipped flirtatiously. 

“C’mon, man…” Sam groaned. Dean gave a small cackle as he hopped into the car. Sam followed behind, only to meet Dean’s outstretched arm as he said, “‘Ey, hey, hey! Watch the mud on your boots!” Sam sighed at Dean’s outstretched arm, his lack of sleep and Dean’s antics-- 

Sam’s eyes widened as he stared at Dean’s forearm. He grabbed onto it, pulling back Dean’s sleeve. 

“Hey, what’re you--!?”

“Dean… The mark...” Sam turned Dean’s arm so he could see it. “It’s gone…”  
______________________________________________________________________________

“Since you have this weekend off, I got my shift switched for Saturday, so now I’m off too!” Cheyenne said, her voice tender, her words careful not to shatter me. “I don’t want you to feel obligated, but the invitation is there if you want to come stay with us this weekend…”

“Uhh…” I sighed out, unsure of what to say as I squeezed my phone in my hand.

“It’s just… Cody and I are worried about you… He doesn’t know what’s going on, but he knows something is wrong. I’ll understand if you don’t want to come--”

“No, it’s not like that…” I finally choked out. “I just… I don’t know what my financial situation will be like until I get paid, and I've got this party Mettaton’s throwing that I have to go to tonight--”

“Brandi to Fine Jewelry! Brandi to Fine Jewelry!” Regina’s voice came over the PA system, and I physically cringed. I hated being the only manager on duty. Mostly because there were a lot of things I still didn’t know how to handle on my own. 

I audibly sighed, my brain feeling like it had split in three different directions. “Hang on, let me call you back. They’re paging me.”

I hung up the phone, sliding into my back pocket, just begging for it to be a problem I knew the answer to. It wasn’t. Another delivery issue. Yet another situation I didn’t know how to take care of on my own. 

The beginning of the year had started out rough. Twenty seventeen was unforgiving, and I honestly thought twenty sixteen couldn’t be beaten. In January, Sears announced that they were eliminating two management positions, and the whole store freaked. We lost people left and right, everyone terrified they’d be next. One of those included Keshia, one of my bosses. Carol, of course, stayed. She’d probably never leave Sears until it closed down for good.

So, naturally, after being there for almost three years, everyone expected me to take Keshia’s place. I had no interest in the job, being busy enough just having to travel six hours to see my best friend, and to another universe to visit my boyfriend that I had to keep secret. Cheyenne was _still_ the only person who knew from my world that I had this ability. 

But… I heard a rumor that if I didn’t take the position, then my ex boyfriend, Craig, would take it. I absolutely did _not_ want him to become my boss. 

And that’s how I ended up as a lead in this probably failing company. Everyday we’d get the question at least once. “When is this store closing?” or “Yes, you are closing! I saw it on the news!” and the dreaded line we got when a customer couldn't get what they wanted, “This is why your store is closing!”

Granted, the last thing I wanted to be in life was a lead at a Sears at age twenty five. I was striving more to be a writer, but that wasn’t a guaranteed paycheck until I got a published book, which I hadn’t done yet. I couldn’t even look at my book series. I hadn’t worked on it since before I went to Fiore a year and a half before. But constantly hearing that I was probably going to lose my now decently paying job was discouraging to say the least.

That, and well, I’d just been in such a slump lately. Which was why Cheyenne called me while I was at work alone _again_. She had moved to San Antonio with Cody, her husband, so we only saw each other maybe once a month at the most. We spent quite a bit of time on Overwatch. It was how we spent time together while we were so far apart. Six hours doesn’t seem like much until your best friend moves far away.

So, on Overwatch, I’d sobbed my ass off to her about how depressed I’ve been. Something that I’d been trying to avoid doing. I didn’t want to bother anyone with my insecurities, but Sans sure as hell wasn’t helping... 

Ugh, Sans…

I loved my boyfriend more than life itself, but sometimes, being with him was difficult. I knew that going in. It was no surprise to me. 

The majority of our time together was fun, full of laughter and lazy days on the couch. We'd fallen asleep in his bed multiple times, and out while we were stargazing. I loved having a lazy boyfriend, really. I wasn't much for activity either. He was funny, and he always had me laughing. 

But then... there were downsides. First, there was the secrecy. He'd told me some stuff about his past, like what happened to W.D. Gaster. But there were other things I knew he hadn't shared with me. I let it go for the time being. Then, it took me awhile to get used to his nightmares. He'd squirm, whining in his sleep desperately. The first time it happened I didn't know what to do, so I just held him as tight as I could until he finally woke. He clung to me, crying silently until he finally fell back asleep. He never told me what tore him awake. 

Despite all of that, I didn't mind. I knew it wouldn't be peaches and cream. I knew what I'd signed up for. 

A few days before my breakdown, I'd come for my visit. I tried to come by at least once a week, but I usually found myself hedgecrossing as often as possible. Again, Sans and I fell asleep in his bed, and he woke up from another nightmare. But this time... Something different happened. As I clung to him to calm him down, he embraced me back like normal. Then his hands slowly moved down to my butt. The touch sent a spark through me, and before I knew it, we were making out. But then it got heavier. I'd rolled on top of him, our hands caressing each other, and clothing articles slowly coming off. He'd gotten me down to just my underwear, our bodies grinding together in unison, and as I reached for his shorts to pull them off he... stopped. 

He pushed me back, his left eye glowing, flashing between blue and yellow rapidly, his magic reacting to the stimulation, to the point the color turned green. “Uhh…” He licked his mouth, his blue tongue sending a quick flash of light into the dark room. “I’m sorry, but… I can’t…” 

Then he teleported out of the room in the most unsmooth escape attempt I’d ever seen. I was so upset I ended up hedgecrossing back home and crying into my pillow in the most cliche way. 

I knew he had a reason. I knew it wasn’t like what happened with Craig. I knew Sans was attracted to me, but… Then I couldn’t help but get all wrapped up in my insecurities like when I dated that beanpole _asshole_ that almost became my boss. I didn’t realize trying to lose your virginity would be so hard in a long term relationship. 

So, between being broke because my mom lost her job, and my money grubbing uncle sucking every dime he could out of me, working a job I hated that I had no money to spare from, being far away from my best friend and I couldn’t just use magic to go visit her, my boyfriend avoiding me since a few nights before, and the secret I’d been holding onto about what happened in the Void… And let’s not forget the Mark of Cain. 

The mark that somehow ended up on my arm while trying to save Undertale’s timeline. Of course, I knew it was from using the First Blade. When I stabbed Chara, that twisted ghost of a child, I must've somehow acquired it. I knew making a requip based off of Dean’s abilities and weapons would be interesting, but… I'd never expected that. 

So, there it sat on my forearm, just like it did on Dean. At first, my body felt fine. The mark didn't seem like more than a requip side effect decoration. Then… the cravings started. 

From chocolate, to sex, to anger, I craved it all. This burning sensation inside me churned deep in my chest, pressure building up, ready to explode out of me. Some days it was all I could do to not scream at the top of my lungs just to release the frustration. Or cry until my eyes swoll shut. Some days, I didn't feel anything. Some days, I felt everything. An eternal hell I could escape. 

And nothing helped. Nothing made me feel better. Well, except for Supernatural. 

Netflix uploaded season twelve faster than normal, and being too poor to afford cable, it was my dream come true. That, and my poor mother hadn't experienced “the family business.” So, I got the pleasure of rewatching the entire show again, plus the new season. 

And God, _or should I say Chuck_ , what a season finale! I was _crushed_ a _certain someone_ wouldn't be returning to the show. They were my favorite character, other than Dean. But such is life. The show will move on. 

But, now that that was all said and done I just had to wait until October before I could see my boys again. I considered going broke just to have cable for this damn show. 

For now, I just had to make it through the rest of this shift, make an appearance at Mettaton’s celebration party, and I had two days off. And maybe spending the weekend with Cheyenne and Cody would do me some good. Yeah, I’d probably be a bad girl and teleport there because fuck driving for that long. I didn’t trust my car anyways.  
______________________________________________________________________________

Getting drunk wasn't something I did on a regular basis. Sure, I liked to kick back with a beer, or have a glass of wine to chill out, but getting drunk? I did it maybe once every few months. 

Getting 'snockered', as I like to call it, wasn't on my agenda that night, but hey? I needed a little liquid courage for what I was planning on doing. When I told Undyne, my blue scaled, red haired fishy monster friend with a fighting spirit, she... well... probably went overboard on my mix drinks. 

Which was how I'd found myself gazing out the window as music, chatter and laughter boomed around me. In the distance, even though I was right there. Rain poured down outside, and I couldn't stop gazing out at it. My eyes searched everything harder than normal, so much that they hurt, like they’d sunk into my eye sockets. Someone bumped into me, and my body smooshed against the wooden wall. I giggled, the sound slurring out like I'd drooled on myself. Oh, wait, I had. Gross. 

I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand as I turned to see who my assailant was, ready to fight them. They had already vacated the vicinity, or rather, there were too many people around me to tell who the culprit was. Fucking scallywag. 

"Fitemeh..." I mumbled, then started giggling as I took another sip of whatever the hell Undyne made me. It tasted like sour blueberries and yummy goodness. I hoped my tongue wouldn't turn blue, but then I thought it'd be fun to make out with Sans while our tongues matched colors. 

Speaking of Sans, I had a small skeleton to seduce. 

I started scanning the room, proving it difficult to find my short boyfriend in the mix of everyone in the banquet hall. I could see fucking Asgore's giant ass, his dopey furred face and golden hair fixed back in a nice pony tail. His horns reached far above everyone else. Fitting for the king of monsters. Then I saw Mettaton, the robotic superstar of the Underground, as he jumped up on the table. He stretched up one of his voluptuous legs in the air, his pink heeled Go-Go boots glistening in the light. _Fucking idiot. Look at that asshole-- Wait! I should find Papyrus!_ Being Sans’s younger brother, and the apple of his eye, there was a good chance he'd be close to Paps, right? I mean, I'd follow Papyrus around too if I were Sans. And Papyrus was tall and loud, so finding him would be a cinch. 

I dressed up nice, of course, wearing a dark, heather grey dress that zipped up the front with my favorite green anorak jacket. Completing the look with thigh high stocking connected to my matching bra and undies I spent way too much on at Victoria’s Secret. (Her secret was that she was overpriced, I convinced myself.) I wore black boots with heels to try and look more slim, but really, they just made me clumsy. 

I added my Samulet to the outfit as well, but that was no surprise. Since obtaining it, I slept and showered in it.

I took a step, loosing my balance. I grabbed onto the person closest to me. I felt clawed hands on my wrists as they helped me back into a vertical position. I'd recognize those claws anywhere. 

"Hey, _moooooooooooooom~_!" I sang as I beamed up at Toriel. Her plump frame and soft, white fur made me want to hug her like the squishy goat mom that she was. She, however, did not return my sing-song greeting. 

"My child, are you drunk?" 

"I can't lie to you... Yes, I'm... not sober." I nodded, stamping my approval on my statement with a thumbs up. Toriel took my glass. I didn't object, but the look on my face caused her to retort, "I think you've had enough! Now, go enjoy the rest of your evening, and don't complain to me when you don't feel well tomorrow!" 

"Okay, I'll complain to someone else, I promise!" I managed to get past Toriel and started looking for Sans again. 

To recap, long ago, monster kind had been sealed underground after the war with the humans. There were only two ways to break the barrier: Someone could cross alone if they obtained a human soul and monster soul, or you broke the barrier completely with the power of seven human souls. After decades of being trapped underground, Frisk fell down into the Underground, and managed to free the monsters… Then they used the reset power, starting the timeline back to where they’d first fallen down again, and caused a lot of mayhem. _Murderous mayhem._

But, after a lot of heartache, we managed to fix the timeline back to the right way, and get the monsters on the surface. Now, monsters had finally been granted full rights again. It took months, just like the first time we arrived on the surface. This time, however, no resets set us back before everything finally fell into place. Everyone had gone back to the jobs they'd had previously. Alphys, Undyne’s girlfriend and friendly neighborhood otaku lizard, became a researcher at the college, Toriel got her job as a teacher, and Papyrus and Undyne were coaches at the school again, and Mettaton got his network, MTT, up and running again. The only difference was that Sans had landed his job as a physics professor this round. The timeline was so perfect I'd never forgive Frisk if they reset again. 

The reset power. The power to completely restart a timeline, erasing every crime or kindness you committed. A power too great for a nine year old like Frisk to carry on their small shoulders.

Frisk, the androgynous protagonist of _Undertale_ , had become like a little sibling to me. Toriel had adopted them, and housed me while I was stuck in their universe. 

Flowey, my bestest friend in the multiverse who was also a golden flower, came to the surface again. Mostly because I had forced him. Though, I did notice he wasn't nearly as grumpy as the first time. Sure, he still lacked a soul, but I think he was enjoying his time in his own way. He and Frisk both whined and moaned when I had to go back to my world, but I had to remind them that I did have other people I cared about back home. Like my mom (the real one, not my adopted goat mom), who I was now living with, and Cheyenne, even if she had moved away to San Antonio. 

Frisk, Sans, Flowey and I were the only ones who remembered what happened in that God awful timeline. The four of us agreed to leave it behind us, and never look back.

So, in the new and fresh timeline, the celebration of established monster rights was in full swing, and I thought what better way to celebrate than have a few drinks to cure this crippling depression? And… to finally get up the courage to tell my boyfriend, my wonderful, imperfectly perfect boyfriend, that I was ready to have sex with him. My only problem was that it would be my first time, and I was... more than nervous.

I stumbled backwards after losing my balance, and bumped into a skeletal frame. I giggled in delight when I felt him grab my arm and lower back, keeping me up. I spun around, draping myself around him, his shoulders the only things keeping me up. “Hey, _bone_ daddy…” I slurred in an attempt at being sexy. It wasn’t.

“Hey, doll…” Sans chuckled, the pet name and his deep voice turning me on in a snap. “Thought you’d give drinking a _shot_?” 

I giggled, nuzzling myself into his neck. “Yeah, but listen, that’s not important right now…”

“I know…” His face sunk just slightly. “I’ve been avoiding you since the other night, and I’m sorry--”

“Bygones be gone by!” I waved him off. “I don’t care about the other night because tonight is a _new_ night, and a _new_ night means _new_ things can happen!” 

He snorted a laugh through his nasal cavity. “Right…”

“So, how about instead of apologizing to me…” I pulled back to look him in the face, his round eye lights lit up. “You let me take you somewhere private, and do dirty things to you--”

“Ohhhhhh, boy…” His smile was gone. “You are _waaaaaaay_ too drunk to make that offer right now…”

“I know I’ve been drinking…” I waved a finger at him. “But I’ve been thinkin’aboutdis for a _llllllllooooooooooonnnnnnnng_ time, babe…” I kissed his neck, and his body tensed up. He grabbed my shoulders and pushed me back, our bodies farther apart than I would’ve liked. 

“Listen, I’d love to take you up on that offer, believe me, I just…” He paused, looking at anything but me. “I just can’t right now… Can I take a rain check?”

Insecurity stabbed me, and I let his shoulders go. He saw the hurt in me, I could tell, but I turned heel, marching through the crowd as he called out my name. Ignoring him while trying to walk normal and look as angry as I felt proved difficult. I passed by Papyrus and Undyne, the two waving and calling out to me. I could feel the tears coming, and I had to get the heck out of dodge. Then Sans appeared in front of me, and I growled. Having a boyfriend who could teleport sucked when you were mad at him. 

“Brandi, listen, it’s not that I’m not attracted to you--”

“Then what is it!?” I screamed, and a group of humans and monsters near us hushed up, watching us. I sighed, indicating the Mark of Cain on my arm. “Is it _this_ thing?!”

“You know I could care less about that--”

“You know what, forget it, Sans. I’ve been fucking patient, and you don’t want to tell me what’s going on, and I’m _done_. Come talk to me when you actually want to let me in on your stupid secrets--”

“I will, I just…”

“You _can’t._ I know.” I hissed, shoving past him. I suddenly felt nauseated and had to pee at the same time. I could hear Papyrus’s loud voice as he approached Sans. I decided I’d go to the bathroom, find Flowey to tell him goodbye, and then go home and sleep off my inebriation. 

The townhall building was old, and therefore, inefficient in design to quickly make it to the bathroom. I exited the ballroom with a good, satisfying kick to the door, and tromped down the hallway ungracefully until I found the restrooms. I grabbed the doorknob, swinging it open and slammed it behind me. I started to head for the closest stall when I realized I’d found myself in another hall.

“What the fuck?” I growled, turning back to the door. “How many fucking hallways are in this stupid fucking building?”

I opened the door to go back into the previous hall, only to find what I could describe as a broom closet. I stared into the darkness of it, the silhouettes of cleaning supplies staring back at me. My drunken brain tried to process the fact that the doorway had lead me to a different room. I looked up and down the dimly lit hallway, sure that I hadn’t turned around to the wrong door. However, it looked like the only one close enough. I hadn’t stepped _that_ far into the hallway. Then it hit me.

“Oh my God… Did I just hedgecross somewhere?” I started to panic, shutting the door and trying to open it again. I opened and closed it three more times before I realized that the portal back was _not_ going to open. 

“Alright, _fine_ …” I huffed. I finally turned around, examining my surroundings to the best of my ability. The hall was dimly lit, gray bricks lining the lower half. The top was a solid gray. I touched it to get a feel. The coldness of it burned me, and I stepped back. The hallway seemed…somehow familiar, but…

“Where the fuck am I?” I whined, trying to decide which way to go. I thought about calling out for help, but I was drunk, and had no clue what to expect. I decided to shut my mouth, and explore my surroundings quietly.

Normally, I was pretty good at sneaking up on people. As I was that night, _and_ in heels, it most definitely was not my forte. I thought about requipping into something that would help, but I decided to conserve my magic power in case I needed it. 

I passed by a few more doors before the hallway forced me to turn right, and a warm, orange light spilled in from another room. I passed by an open doorway that lead into what looked like a kitchen. I stopped briefly to look around the relatively small room. Wherever I was, it looked like some kind of base for a small group of people. 

Then, I found the end of the hallway. I stepped out into a hexagonal room. In the center lied a lit up table, a gridded map of the world in orange, green and purple. A small staircase led up to a top entrance. To my left there was a beautiful, wooden threshold. More tables lied in there as I stepped closer to the map table. A small alcove surrounded a large, blue telescope. Bookshelves and filing cabinets lined the stone walls. 

I started to feel dizzy, the nausea coming back. I grabbed my mouth, exhaling slowly as it hit me where I was, and I knew exactly why I’d arrived there. The Men of Letters bunker. “I hedgecrossed into Supernatural’s timeline…”

“Uhh, Dean?” I heard from above. I looked up to find none other than Sam Winchester carrying a grocery bag, and looking down at me with a perplexed expression. 

“Holy shit…” I whispered. Heavy footsteps echoed into the hexagonal room, and Dean appeared in the wooden threshold. He stopped upon seeing me, then reached back into his pants, pulling out a small gun. I reflexively put my hands up, but lost my balance and fell against the table. My heartbeat picked up, the pace making me feel sicker. I held up one hand and said, “Please don shoot me, I dunnwanna die…”

“How did you get in here?” Dean demanded.

“Uhh, I juskinda… Walked in through a door??” It wasn’t a lie.

Sam descended down the stairs, setting his grocery bag down, and came to my rescue as the voice of reason. “Hang on, Dean, wait… Let’s hear her out--”

“Hear her out!? She broke in here!” 

“Yeah, and you were the one who was supposed to be looking out.”

“I didn’t stay behind to ‘look out!’ I needed to use your computer!” 

“Use it for _what_?”

Dean’s face stretched out as he widened his eyes. "Uhh..." He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth before answering, "Stuff.”

“Dude--” Sam sighed, stopping himself as he let out a long sigh through his large nostrils. He turned to me. “Who are you?”

“My name is Brandi, and I’m a human like you guys, so please don’t shoot me with rock salt, or regular bullets for that matter…” My stomach churned again, and I covered my mouth and belly, and I still _really_ needed to pee.

“What’re you doing here?” Dean asked, still pointing the gun at me.

I got fed up being treated like a threat. “Okay, come on! I’m not gonna hurt y’all! Honestly, I really just needed to go to the bathroom, and I fucking accidentally waltzed into your timeline, so now I’m here!” 

“Dean, come on…” Sam urged. Dean glanced between the two of us before he finally gave in, putting the gun at his side. 

“Fucking _thank you_.” I winked at Sam. “I owe you, big guy.”

“Uh… Are you… drunk?” Sam raised a brow.

“Pssh, no!” I scoffed, crossing my arms, only to lose my balance again. I caught myself on the table as Dean snorted a laugh. “Dude, she is lit up like a Christmas tree.” 

“You said you…accidentally waltzed into our timeline?” Sam asked, actually trying to be helpful. 

“I was at a party, and yeah, I was drinking, and I got in a fight with my boyfriend. I left to go to the bathroom, but when I opened the door, I wound up in your damn hallway. My magic must’ve kicked in because I’m drunk…”

“Magic?” Dean asked. “What are you, a witch?”

I scoffed like he’d called me a bad word. “I’m a Fairy Tail wizard, not a freakin’ witch!” 

“A… fairy tale wizard?” Sam asked.

I giggled, “Like a tail on a whale!!” 

“So…” The brother’s exchanged looks. Sam pressed further to try and understand. “Like an animal tail?”

“Dammit, Sammy! It’s the name of my guild!” 

Now they both looked suspicious, and I had no clue why. Until Sam asked, “How do you know my name?”

“Uhh… I heard Dean say it earlier!” I lied, trying to be slick.

Dean shook his head. “I didn’t say his name.”

I rolled my eyes. “Ugh, God, I’m too drunk to explain this right now… Do you guys have a bathroom? I really need to pee, and--”

“How do you know Sam’s name!?” Dean barked.

His sudden, harsh tone made my heart skip fast again, and my stomach churned for the worse. I covered my mouth again, pleading desperately, “Please, I’m gonna be sick…”

“Uhh, Dean, I think we should--”

I lunged forward, my delicious blue liquor coming back up in a burning, acidic fashion. The blue liquid mixed with stomach bile had turned it a putrid green. 

“Ah, come on!!” Dean threw his arms up in disgust.

“Uh, bathroom’s down the hall and to the left!” Sam said hastily. 

I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand as I gagged again, heading there without a word. Thoughts and stomach pains had my head spinning in a million different directions. I found the bathroom, finally getting to relieve myself, but puked into the toilet afterwards. I stayed there for a few minutes before I fell back, blacking out.  
______________________________________________________________________________

I shifted in the bed, the firm mattress creaking underneath me. I stretched my legs out, only to be greeted with a charlie horse in the back of my left leg. I grabbed it, whining desperately as the muscle cramped, and throbbing headache kept my eyes shut. 

Finally, the pain subsided, and I managed to untangle myself from the thin bed sheet and coarse blanket. That’s when it hit me that I wasn’t at home. 

I sat up, grabbing my screaming head, realizing I’d been placed in one of the bedrooms of the bunker. 

Oh, right. I met Sam and Dean Winchester and threw up on their floor, then passed out in their bathroom. Wonderful. 

“Uh, man…” I groaned, sliding out of the bed. I rocked back on my tailbone, a string of pain shooting through it. Must’ve happened in my fall. 

I felt queasy as I stood up, taking a deep breath to quell it. I needed some greasy McDonald’s and a blue Powerade _stat_.

I looked down at myself, realizing I was still in the gettup from last night. Ugh, no wonder I was so unformortable. I still had my bra on and everything. At least the guys were nice enough to take my boots off. I rolled my eyes, using my magic to change my clothes. My Panic! At the Disco, Death of a Bachelor 2017 concert t-shirt, complete with Brendon Urie as a skeleton, and some flannel, red plaid pajamas pants. Perfect.

I slowly opened the door, stepping out into the dim hallway. I looked both ways like I was crossing the street. I took the opportunity to run to the restroom and pee, quickly shower, and collect myself before confronting the boys. 

Confronting may have not been the right word, but I didn’t know what to expect of this very new situation. Yesterday I was worried about work and my love life. 

After getting out, I put my pajamas back on, and contemplated putting on makeup. I decided against it, seeing as how Sam and Dean had probably already seen me at my worst. Not to mention it wasn’t really the time. I hoped they’d just let me sleep off this hangover after I explained my situation better. 

I stepped back out into the hallway, hearing the boys speaking down the hall. I followed the sound of their voices until I found the two of them in the kitchen. 

“Don’t you think it’s just a little weird?”

“Let’s just see what she has to say.”

“If she ever gets in here.” Dean’s voice muffled as he took a sip of something. I hoped it was coffee if I could stomach it.

I stepped into the doorway, leaning against it in an attempt to feel human. Plates of half eaten breakfast were around them, along with coffee mugs. Sam had his laptop on in front of him. Dean had a book propped partially on his lap and the table. They both looked up at me, Sam straightening himself up a bit. Dean smiled sarcastically. “Rise and shine, sleepin’ pukey!” 

Ignoring Dean, I looked past him longingly at the coffee pot. Since I wasn’t an invited guest, I didn’t feel right just going up and making myself at home. Sam must’ve noticed. 

“Feel free to breakfast. Dean made it.”

“Thank you…” I said quietly. I couldn’t even look them in the eye. I noticed Dean watching me as I walked in further, going to the coffee pot. 

“Where’d you get the clothes?” He asked. Ah, so that’s what the staring was about.

“I used my requip magic to change into them…” I said, my voice as gruff as his. I coughed to clear my throat. “It’s my main source of magic.”

“ _Main_ source of magic?” He pressed further. I tried to not audibly sigh. _Just let me finish making my coffee, dude._

“Yeah.” I said, stirring in the cream and sugar. 

“Ah, right…” Sam began. I heard his laptop skritch across the table top. I turned around, grabbing the chair next to Dean, and sat down, squinting at the screen. “I heard you say you ‘hedge crossed’ into our timeline last night, so I looked into it.”

“And while Sammy had the internet do all his work _for_ him, I’ve been looking through the Men of Letters records.” Dean slammed the book shut. “There’s jack squat about hedge crossing.”

“And from what _I_ found with the _internet’s help_ ,” Sam said with an incredible amount of sass, “It looks like a way for witches to cross into other worlds. But, you said you weren’t a witch.”

“Yeah, that’s because I’m not.” I paused to take a sip of my coffee, regretting it. I waited for the sickness to fade away before I continued. “The ability isn’t actually called ‘hedgecrossing.’ It’s just what Sans calls it--” 

_Sans_. He was the last person I wanted to think about. My failed, drunken attempt at seducing him played through my mind as Dean asked, “Sans?”

“Like Comic Sans?”

“What the hell is Comic Sans?”

“You know. The font used in comic books. The word bubbles?” Sam gestured like it was obvious. Dean looked at him blankly before calling him a nerd.

“Sam’s right, but, it’s also my boyfriend’s name.” I huffed. Should I try to call him? There was a good chance my cell phone might work in this universe. If not, I could always just leave a voicemail like usual. Voicemails were the only thing that could send between the two worlds. Fiore didn’t have phones, so I couldn’t contact my old guild like that. 

“I should try to call him.” I answered myself aloud, standing up to hunt down my cell phone. If it wasn’t in the room, then it was probably in my spatial storage in my jacket from last night. Sam stretched out his hand. 

“Hang on, just… Give us a second. If you explain to us what’s going on, maybe Dean and I can help you get back home.” I stared at him briefly before nodding. He continued, “So, since your ability isn’t called hedgerossing, what is it?”

“Well…” I sighed, not feeling up to talking. “It’s basically what the definition of hedgecrossing is, but I can only cross between fictional worlds.”

Dean glowered. “Fictional?”

“Yeah. So far I’ve been to three, so that seems to be the trend.”

“But, uh, we’re not fictional.” Dean pointed between himself and his brother. “We’re real.”

“You’re right. You are real. But in my world, you’re the main characters of Supernatural. A fictional TV show.”

“Like Chuck’s books?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, but the whole book series is a part of the show, too.”

Dean shrugged. “That explains how you know our names.”

“Exactly. I know Cas, Crowley, and all the other idjits running around here.” They exchanged looks at the word _idjits._

“So, did you just… decide to come here?” Sam asked.

“The first time I travel to a world it’s involuntary. Usually, I end up somewhere because something’s wrong with the timeline, and it’s usually my fault somehow.” I answered honestly, not even meaning the self deprecation. “But once I fix the timeline I can come and go as I please.”

“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with our timeline.” Dean shrugged as he took another sip of coffee.

“Dean…” Sam said sternly, almost like he didn’t want me to hear. “What about the--”

“It’s gone, Sammy. Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.”

“It’s gone…” I began, everything falling into place in my brain. Of course that’s what it was. I was so distracted by my hangover that it didn’t even cross my mind. “Do you… Do you mean the Mark of Cain, by chance?”

They both shot their gazes at me. Dean began, “How did you--?”

I held up my arm for them see the mark on my arm clearly. “Because I think I took it from you.”

I gave the brother’s a brief history of what happened to get me to this point. Starting with fucking up _Fairy Tail’s_ timeline, to fixing it, causing _Undertale’s_ timeline to get fucked up in the process, and fixing that as well. Now, here I was, in another messed up timeline thanks to my requip. Maybe I should’ve just learned celestial magic like Master Makarov had suggested. 

“So…” Dean was trying not to laugh, and failing miserably. “You use your magic to change your clothes and fight evil?” I cut him a look, and the laughter wholeheartedly spilled out into a guffaw. “What are you? Some kind of magical girl?”

How did he even know the definition of a magical girl? Well, he watched hentai, so I guessed he’d just learned it from that. “I’m a Fairy Tail wizard. _Not_ a magical girl.”

“Whatever you say, Sailor Moon.” The shit eating grin on his face made me want to clock him.

“So… Why do you have a…” Sam hesitated. “What’s it called?”

“Requip.”

“Right. Why do you have a requip of _Dean_?”

Dean scoffed, obviously offended. “Because I’m _awesome_?”

“I, uh, used it the first time to try and exorcise a demon out of Frisk. When that didn’t work, I used the First Blade on said demon. That’s when I noticed the mark, and it didn’t go away. Even in my other requips.”

“How long ago did this happen?” Sam asked.

“I guess it’s been about five months now?” I shrugged. 

Sam looked at Dean. “That’s about when yours disappeared, right?”

“Right…” Dean nodded, his face now stoic. He put his right elbow on the table, opening his hand, extending it for me to grab. 

“What? Do you wanna arm wrestle? Because I’m pretty sure you’d--”

“No. Look, I’m gonna take the mark back from you.”

“What? No!” 

“Dean, are you sure?” Sam asked.

“I’m not leaving the mark with a teenage girl, Sam. I’m taking it back from her.”

“First of all,” I rolled my eyes. “I’m twenty five. Definitely not a teenager. Secondly, there’s no way I’m letting you take this back.”

“Yeah, and why not?” Dean looked at me, his intense eye contact sinking me into my chair. “You give me the mark, and the timeline is fixed, and you get to go home. Sounds like the simplest solution to me.”

The timeline was probably already fucked. Five months of Abaddon running around potentially, and come to think of it, where exactly were we in the timeline? Season ten? I guessed if the mark was still a thing, then Amara hadn’t been released yet. Which meant Chuck hadn’t revealed himself as God yet. And I guessed Death was still alive, then? Was Metatron in jail? Did Heaven hate Castiel yet? And Rowena could be God knows where. I couldn’t even remember what Crowley was up to around this time. And maybe Charlie was still alive? 

They both watched me as my brain spun, the headache making my thought process foggy and unclear. I finally shrugged. “I don’t know how to return it to you, and I don’t want to, but… I don’t want to ruin your timeline any more than it already is. Maybe I should give it back to you.”

“There’s got to be another way--”

“Sam.” Dean said, not looking away from me. Sam stood up from the table, pacing a bit before settling by the coffee pot, crossing his arms. 

“Give me your hand.” Dean demanded. I reluctantly took it, his skin rough to the touch. 

I exhaled as I began focusing my magic energy on the mark. Normally, I avoided giving it any magic power, but trying to move it couldn’t hurt, right? I stared right back into Dean’s pretty, intense, green eyes. The magic swirled around my arm and into Dean. His gaze softened just barely at the sensation, but we maintained eye contact.  
Sam sighed next to us, probably unaware at the magic flowing between us. It looked different in different worlds. It appeared as an aura in Fiore. In Undertale, it was bold, solid color. Here, it didn't manifest physically. 

I squeezed Dean’s hand tighter, and he squeezed back, but to no avail. My exhausted body didn’t feel like expelling any more magic energy, and the connection dropped. I let go, grabbing onto my pounding head. 

“I’m sorry, I… It’s not doing anything.” 

“Maybe Cain was the only one who could transfer it to another person?” Sam looked relieved. 

Dean focused on his hand, stretching his fingers in and out. “My hand feels all tingly.”

“It’s from my magic.” I confirmed, finally getting up the courage to try and stomach some bacon. I grabbed a piece and bit into to it, the queasiness momentarily a problem. Good old meat to save the day. 

“Alright.” Dean gently placed his palms on the table. “So, you’re not a witch. You said you were a wizard.”

God, they asked a lot of fucking questions. “Right.”

“So… What’s the difference?”

“Witches in your world have to use herbs and bones and shit to make their magic. And swear their allegiance to Lucifer and all that jazz. My magic comes from magic energy that’s just inside my body. Like a container inside me. And when it goes empty, I can’t use magic until it fills back up.”

“How do you fill it back up?” Sam looked intrigued. 

“It just refills itself over time.” I wiped my eyes before taking another bite. 

“Don’t wizards have beards and robes?” Dean asked. 

“No, I’m not Gandalf-- Here.” I threw down my bacon and grabbed onto Sam’s laptop. Sam already had Google pulled up on a few different tabs. I opened a new one, noticing ‘Busty Asian Beauties’ in recent searches, and typed in _Fairy Tail_. To my surprise, there were results for the actual anime. 

“You see these anime characters? They’re from my guild called Fairy Tail. This was the first world I traveled to.” Dean leaned closer and Sam stepped up behind me to look at the screen. The picture was of the five main characters. Natsu, Lucy, Erza, Gray and Wendy. Happy and Carla, the flying cats, were in the picture as well. “They’re all wizards, and none of them have beards.” 

“These aren’t wizards! They look like teenagers!” Dean sounded irritated.

“No, they’re teenage wizards.” I pointed at Erza, her long, red hair flowing behind her. “This is Erza. She’s the one who taught me my magic.”

Dean smirked. “She’s hot.” I couldn’t help but picture Erza punching the shit out of Dean if he tried to hit on her. If I could make it back to Fiore I’d make sure it happened. 

“Can she hedge cross too?” Sam asked.

I shook my head. “No, she just taught me my requip magic. I’m the only one with the hedgecrossing ability that I know of.”

I had started to search _Undertale_ as he asked, “Why do you think you have it?” I stopped, still unable to do critical thinking. “I have no clue. I’d say it was to save timelines, but I’m the one who always screws them up.”

I finished typing _Undertale_ in the search bar, but nothing came up for it save for the kickstarter trailer. Which was posted in 2013. 

“...I never thought I’d find myself asking this question seriously, but…” I looked up from the screen. “What year is it?”

“2014.” Sam answered like it was obvious, and I nearly passed out. 

“2014!?” I gasped, trying to process.

“What year is it for you?” Dean asked.

“Dude, it’s 2017 in my world!” 

They blinked at me. Dean scoffed. “C’mon, there’s no way.” 

“I’ll be damned if it’s not! Donald Trump is president, the Wall Street Journal tried to make PewDiePie a nazi, and Supernatural is about to air it’s thirteenth season!” 

“The Trumpster is president?” Dean laughed.

“Yeah. We laughed, too. But somehow he became president. Now we’re in constant fear of being in a nuclear war with North Korea, and maybe even Russia. Who knows who he'll piss off tomorrow.”

The look on my face must’ve proved how serious I was, so he stopped, but he didn’t look convinced. Sam, however, stepped in. 

“Wait, Dean, look…” He started to reach for my shoulder, but hesitated awkwardly. “Uh, could you turn your back towards us?” 

I raised a brow but did it anyway. Then I felt Sam’s finger press gently into my back. “Right here, it says 2017 tour…”

“Holy shit…” Dean whispered. 

I turned to face them. “I know this is all weird, but I’m being honest.” I picked my bacon back up, getting up from my chair and grabbing my coffee. “I know I just popped up out of nowhere, and I'm sorry for that, but I’m gonna fix what I did. Again.” I scoffed, leaving the kitchen. “Can’t believe I’m in a timeline where _Undertale_ doesn’t exist yet. That’s so depressing.” I turned back to ask, “Hey, do you guys have Hulu? I’m in the mood to watch _Gravity Falls_.”

“Uhh, no…” Sam said quickly.

“Dammit.” I sighed. “Never mind then. I guess in the meantime, you guys should figure up anything you can about what’s going on in your timeline. We’ll probably need Cas’s help. And, if you can, find anything about the Book of the Damned. We’re gonna need that.”

“Hey, where are you going?” Sam asked.

“To my room--”

“ _Your_ room?” Dean echoed.

“I’m assuming it’s mine since that’s where you put me and all.” I shrugged. “I need to check my phone to let everyone know I’m okay, and honestly, I feel like I’m gonna die, so I kind of want to rest up before we go gallivanting after demons and witches.”

“We don’t gallivant.” Dean assured me. 

“You can’t fool me. I watch your show.” I said over my shoulder as I left the kitchen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who's ready for season 13!? I'm considering getting cable just for this, I swear. 
> 
> So! Here's part three in what could arguably and potentially turn into my favorite in the series. I love Supernatural and all of the characters, and I plan on making this a good read. Please be patient with me. These will probably come out more slowly than the first two. Mostly because I'm still writing the first one, and part two is getting cleaned up as I go. 
> 
> Also, I'll soon be making a tumblr page for this series. (Technically, it's already there. There's just nothing posted there because I work all the damn time.) I'll post about it when it's ready! 
> 
> For now, enjoy reading about my encounter with the Winchesters!


	2. You Left Cas in the Impala with the Windows Up!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel arrives upon my request, and I further explain the troubles my requip powers have caused. Meanwhile, Crowley has his suspicions about a sudden distress call from Dean, asking to return the First Blade.

“I know you’re pissed, and I get it, but… You’re not answering me, and I just want to know you’re okay.” Sans’s voice resonated calmly, nearly monotone on the other end of the line. Like always. “If you hedgecrossed somewhere, I know you can’t help that. But if you’re trying to teach me a lesson, just stop.”

I paused the message, fighting the urge to smash my phone into the wall. He really did deserve an award for being the laziest arguer in the multiverse. 

I continued the message reluctantly. “I, uh. What is I mean is… I don’t want to lose you. I love you, okay?”

The recording ended, and my eyes welled up. “I love you, too, you ass.”

Next I reluctantly opened Cheyenne’s voicemail. And it yelled at me like I knew it would. 

“OH MY GOD!! Why aren’t you answering your fucking phone!? You were supposed to call me with details, remember!?

Sorry, Chey. No details to give other than we ended up fighting, and I ended up in fucking Lebanon, Kansas in another fucking universe. 

“And you never answered me if you were coming or not! It’s already late in the day, so if you’re coming, you need to get your ass in gear! BYE!!” 

So understanding, that one.

Then, one from Papyrus with an enraged Undyne in the background. Papyrus’s booming voice through the speaker forced me to pull the phone back. 

“BRANDI, IT’S YOUR BEST AND COOLEST FRIEND, THE GREAT PAPYRUS!!” He always greeted me like that. 

“I can see on the caller I.D., Paps.” I always responded to Papyrus’s recordings. Mostly because he paused in between sentences to give me time to do so. I once asked why he did it, and he told me it was ‘only fair’ to the person listening. Whatever that meant. 

“I KNOW YOU AND MY BROTHER GOT IN A FIGHT LAST NIGHT, BUT SANS WON’T TELL ME WHY. I’M SURE HE’S BEING DIFFICULT AS USUAL.”

“You want me to pummel his ass?!” Undyne cut in.

“UNDYNE, NO! SANS IS FRAGILE!” Papyrus answered for me.

“He wouldn’t be if he’d just train with us!” She protested.

“IF YOU GET HIM TO COME OUT OF HIS ROOM, THEN YOU HAVE AT IT!” Papyrus paused, thankfully turning his attention back to the voicemail. “SANS, WELL… HE’S VERY NEW TO THIS SORT OF THING. HE’S NEVER BEEN GOOD AT EXPRESSING HIS FEELINGS, BUT HE’S GETTING BETTER.”

“Is he though?” I asked, running my fingers through my hair.

“JUST… GIVE HIM TIME. YOU TWO DIDN’T GO THROUGH ALL OF THAT NONSENSE FOR NOTHING!” 

_Nonsense._ That was an understatement, but a very normal Papyrus word.

Undyne scoffed. “They need to be more _passionate_ like me and Alphys!” 

“THE TWO OF YOU ARE THE EPITOME OF LOVE, UNDYNE!”

“Aww, come here, you!!!” 

“PLEASE, DON’T NOOGIE THE SKELETON!!!--” The message cut off after that. 

Finally, a message from my mom. 

“Hey, Branders… just calling to check on you. Did you spend the night with one of your friends? Just let me know you’re okay. Love you.”

I didn’t know if I’d call Sam and Dean friends, but I was safe with them. At least my mom’s message was semi normal. I responded to her voicemail first. 

“Hey, mom… I’m fine. I got too drunk last night, so I crashed at Shea and Mellisa’s. I’m feeling kinda sick, but I’ll let you know what’s going on later. Love you!” 

Then, I called Cheyenne.

“Hey, Nanner. Please forgive me. I got super drunk last night, Sans and I got in a fight, and I fucking hedgecrossed. You’re going to hate me forever, but… I ended up in Supernatural’s timeline. I’m in the bunker right now. I, uh… I met Sam and Dean. Looks like the Mark of Cain needs to go back to its owner like we thought. Anyway, sorry I’m just getting back to you. I’ll keep you updated.”

Then, Papyrus and Undyne. 

“Undyne, the fact you’d beat up anyone for me soothes my soul to the core, but please don’t hurt Sans. If anyone deserves to smack him, it’s me. Paps, you little angelic voice of reason, I’m so lucky to have you in my life. I’m about to call Sans, but… just letting you all know I’ve hedgecrossed somewhere new. I’ll see you guys soon… Hopefully.”

Finally, I gathered up the courage to call Sans. 

“Hey…” I began slowly, trying to keep my voice tender, yet firm. I felt like crying just thinking about him listening to this message. “I’m not ignoring you. I _did_ hedgecross. Umm…” 

My voice wavered, and I had to take in a deep breath. “I’m so sorry… I love you, and I want this to work because you’re _you_ , and-- I mean, I… I’m _so_ angry, and I don’t understand what’s going on with you, but I’m stuck here for now. I’m gonna get this mark off my arm, and when I come back… We can talk.” I paused before telling him I loved him a second time, then hanging up. 

I threw the phone on the nightstand before falling into my pillow and crying like a Disney princess until I fell asleep.

When I woke up the queasiness had subsided, but my head still pounded in my skull, and my body ached like I’d caught the flu. I looked at my nearly dead phone, the time reading 3:46 P.M.

“Okay, but is this my time, or their time?” I asked aloud, rolling out of bed. 

Whatever. Either way, I thought it best to get dressed. After not being able to eat since the night before, I’d become ravenous. I hoped the brothers were up for feeding me again. 

I requipped into a pair of skinny jeans and a heather gray, drop shoulder sweater and brown boots. I looked down at myself, realizing my Samulet was missing. 

Shit. I must've lost it while stumbling around drunk the night before.

I wanted to throw the bed across the room in a rage. Thankfully super strength wasn't one of my abilities. 

“Maybe Sam or Dean have seen it… Surely they’d recognize it.” I mused to myself. I’d ask them about it along with what was on the dinner menu. I followed their voices until I found them in the conference room. 

“Hey, guys, sorry for the hibernation. What’re we ea--” I halted when I realized Castiel sat at the table with them. I couldn’t help but smile at him, stepping in cautiously. I’d asked them to give him a call, but I hadn’t expected him to show up so quickly.

That’s when I remembered Carla, a small cat I met in Fiore, mentioning a figure in her vision. A glowing man in a long coat with broken wings.  
She had predicted I’d meet Castiel. Just like she predicted I’d meet Sans and Papyrus.

Castiel’s droopy eyes widened upon spotting me, a puzzled expression slapped across his face like usual. Dean looked over his shoulder, widening his arms. “Here’s Sailor Moon now!” 

My smile dropped. “Don’t call me that, dipshit.” I snapped harshly. 

Dean widened his eyes, his arms still outstretched as he looked back at Castiel. “See what I mean?” He whispered loud enough for me to hear. 

Sam spoke up, twiddling his beer in his hand. “Uh, Cas, this is Brandi.”

“I can tell.” Was his plain response, his gravely voice escaping his throat.

“Nice to meet you, Cas.” I tried smiling again, knowing it looked forced, but in an attempt to be polite. 

Castiel stood up from his chair, stepping slowly around the table towards me. He adorned himself in his usual trench coat, but the lack of a tie left me disappointed. His expression, however, was guarded, and careful, his eyes watchful. 

“I'm not gonna bite you. Unless you want me to--” I stopped, realizing what I’d said only after it flew out of my mouth. “I'm sorry. I'm not trying to hit on you.”

He stopped dead, now looking confused again. “I didn't think so. You haven't tried to strike me.”

I intended to let it go, but Dean’s amused laughter had Castiel looking more perplexed. 

“It's just…” I tried to explain, “I think the mark is starting to affect my behavior. I don't normally flirt openly. Especially now that I'm in a relationship.”

“Yeah, it does that to ya’.” Dean mumbled. 

“Like you can blame flirting on the mark.” Sam said under his breath. 

“Could you show it to me?” Castiel asked, pulling my attention from the brothers and back to him. He'd moved just a few feet in front of me. 

I held my arm out, rolling up my sweater sleeve, palm facing the ceiling. He stayed put, his eyes searching it. The pink, scarred tissue stood out prominently on my pale arm.

“Is it real?” Dean asked.

Castiel gave a firm nod. “It is the Mark of Cain.” 

“What, did you think I was lying?” I pulled my sleeve back down.

“Just making sure.” Dean said, holding up his hand defensively.

“We’re not trying to make you feel like we don’t trust you.” Sam further explained. “We just wanted to be sure.”

I took a deep breath, trying to quell my anger. My magic fizzed around me like a whirligig, popping in a desperate need to be released. Castiel took a step towards me. 

“You have an immense amount of power inside you…” He said, stepping closer. Though he was the shortest of the three, he was still much taller than my five foot two self. “But, you’re human?...”

“Yup. Been one my whole life.” 

“This ‘hedgecrossing.’ I’m familiar with the term, though I’ve never met anyone who managed it.” Castiel said. “Traveling back in time can be done, but only by angels. I’ve never met anyone with the ability to transfer between worlds.”

I thought about the old prophecy in _Undertale’s_ timeline. It spoke of an angel who’d empty out the Underground, setting the monsters free. Frisk had the ability to travel back in time to an extent. I found the similarities ironic. 

I couldn’t believe how faint the magic power coming from Castiel was. I supposed an angel’s grace was like their magic power. I recalled a faint memory of Castiel losing his grace during season ten. Metatron had it hidden somewhere, if I wasn’t mistaken. I needed to rewatch it and pay close attention, not that it did me any good at the time. I realized I was only giving myself an excuse to rewatch _Supernatural_.

Castiel looked at the brothers. “You said she learned her power from a wizard?”

“Anime wizards.” Dean gave a cheeky grin.

Castiel’s brow arched down. “What is anime?”

“Alright, look.” I cut that conversation short. “What I am and where I come from doesn’t really matter, alright? I have the damn mark on my arm, and I’d _really_ like to get it off. Is that something we can focus on, guys?” I eyed Castiel. “Also, you can stop looking at me like I’m gonna murder you all. Believe it or not, I actually like you guys.”

“Right…” Castiel cast his eyes towards the floor before returning to the table. I followed him, plopping down in the chair next to him. Compared to the giant tables and three grown men I felt tiny. 

“Well, there’s a problem…” Sam began. 

“That being?”

“We asked Crowley to keep the blade for us, but it's missing.”

“It’s missing?”

“Yeah…” 

I smiled, holding my hand up as the First Blade materialized, forming into my hand from my spatial storage. The three of them looked shocked, and I let a small laugh escape. I always loved it when someone saw my magic for the first time. I’d told them about my requip magic that morning, but I didn’t show them an example. 

“Where did you--?” Dean tried to ask, but simply finished his sentence by gesturing with his hands. 

“I told you. Requip magic. I have a special spatial storage room. When I want to change into an armor, or bring out a weapon, I will it to come to me. Whatever’s in my hand or on my body at the time swaps out with whatever I change into.” 

“Wow…” Sam looked impressed, which made me feel cool. Until Castiel held his hand out. 

“Give me the blade.” 

“Relax, it’s not the _real_ blade.” 

“Crowley tells us it’s missing, yet here you are with it.” Dean leaned on the table, his face stone cold. “I think you took it along with the mark.”

“Seriously, guys, every requip I make is just a replica. It’s never the real deal. You should've seen your faces, though!”

“The mark is the real deal, isn’t it?” Dean asked. 

“Well…” I couldn’t argue with that logic. I supposed if I could take something like the mark, the First Blade would be a cinch to snatch too. “I think the mark is a special case.” 

“So, what, you make copies of other people’s things instead of creating your own?” Sam asked. The comment stung. It stung deep. 

“Pretty much…” I had to admit. “I’ve tried to create my own armor in the past, but for some reason it just… Doesn’t work…”

When Erza first taught me how to use requip magic it took over a week before I managed to properly requip a weapon. The only reason I managed a full set of armor was because an undercover member of a dark guild, a weird guy who called himself Scrub, threatened me. My body reacted to defend itself, requipping into what I now call my Meister Armor. It originated from an anime called _Soul Eater_ , based off the main character, Maka. A black trench coat, red plaid skirt, pigtails and a massive scythe named Soul for the weapon. The armor gave me the ability to look at people’s souls, but too much use at once gave me temporary blindness. 

All my requips had some kind of quirk to them. Probably as a way to keep my magic from being too powerful.

If not for the quirks, I could copy anyone’s abilities without limitations. I’d be an unstoppable force on par with some kind of super villain. Good thing for everyone that no matter how dark the Mark of Cain had turned me recently, I still considered myself a decent person. Even if I had to kill someone in the first timeline, and trap a child in the Void in the second. Even if that child deserved it, I still felt guilty. 

I wanted to save that child. I wanted to save Dr. Gaster, too. But he had other plans for me. If it wasn’t for Flowey, I’d have still been trapped in that vantablack plateau. 

But that was our little secret.

“I guess I’m fated to borrowing powers that mess up other timelines.” 

“Which is why you should give me the blade.” Castiel urged again, his voice more firm.

My insides twisted at his words. I gripped the blade, my knuckles turning white. “No.”

“Brandi,” Sam said gently. “Give him the blade.”

“It’s _my_ blade, Sam. He can’t have it.”

“I’ve been down this road, alright.” Dean’s turn. “You need to get that thing as far away from you as possible. Right now. Hand it over to him.”

I smiled at Castiel. “If you can take it from me, then you can have it.” 

He wasted no time trying to grab it that second. I rolled back out of the chair, ungracefully falling to the floor. Although I was trained to fight, I was still a klutz. The three of them jumped up as I landed, quickly getting on my feet. 

“Brandi, this is no time for games.” Castiel said. 

“Don’t be a sour puss, Cas. Let’s see what you’ve got!” 

I requipped into my Hydrabell armor, the outfit materializing around my body in a slow glow. Hydrabell, a character from an anime called _Blood Lad_ , had the ability to throw down spatial portals. She could throw down a frame, jump into it, and land wherever she desired. I developed the armor after her, my outfit consisting of a red jumper, and my hair pulled up into half pigtails. (I didn’t know what the deal was with anime girls and pigtails.) Goggles rested on my head, and tan gloves and boots completed the outfit. 

The requip acted as a distraction, giving me the opportunity to throw down a frame on the floor behind me. I waved at them as I jumped backwards into it.  
______________________________________________________________________________

Dean gawked, even after she’d jumped into whatever the hell she threw on the floor. He’d seen Crowley teleport plenty of times, and even Castiel back when he still had wings. But this wasn’t an angel or a demon. 

At least, she wasn’t a demon yet. He hoped he could save her before it got that far. 

“Did she just _teleport_?” He finally asked aloud, the portal she threw down gone. No going in after her. 

“I guess that was a requip.” Sam looked impressed, which pissed Dean off. 

“Yeah, and when I find her, I’m gonna re-equip her face with a black eye.”

“ _Dean_.” Sam scolded.

“We’re wasting time. We need to find her. _Now_.” Castiel growled, marching on without them.

Sam and Dean decided to split, feeling a bit like the Scooby gang. Except instead of looking for guy in a mask, a girl dressed up in cosplay was their prime suspect. 

“Son of a bitch.” Dean sighed, deciding to head for her bedroom first.  
______________________________________________________________________________

I landed in my bedroom, my Hydrabell armor only giving me the ability to land in places I’d been to previously. I knew it’d be one of the first places they’d look, so I had to act fast. 

I decided that would be the only time I used the Hydrabell armor. The quirk that went along with that particular armor was that after so many uses I’d lose an article of clothing. Anywhere from a boot to my shirt. I found that out the hard way in _Undertale’s_ timeline. I used the armor to run away from Undyne as she tried to kill me. I popped out of the portal in front of Sans and Alphys with my boobs exposed.

Needless to say, I learned my lesson on the overusage of Hydrabell. 

I _did_ have my Megalovania armor, my only other option for teleportation. I made it back in Fiore, basing it off of Sans nearly a year before I met him. It dressed me in his oversized, blue hoodie, basketball shorts and socks with slippers. Not my most flattering requip, but my boyfriend rocked the slouch look. 

I requipped into it, knowing the smell of it would make me think about him. I pushed the thoughts about him back, forgetting about how long it would take for my voicemail to reach him, or if he'd bother listening to it. That didn’t matter right now. I just had to make sure the Winchesters and Castiel knew that they couldn't take my blade from me. 

Unfortunately, Megalovania came with a few of it’s own quirks. Besides an existential dread, the inability to not pun at everything in sight, _and_ only having one hit separating me from death, there was one more thing. I couldn’t choose where I would teleport. Nothing about my magic was convenient. 

Granted, I could go places I’d never been to this way. My only concern was I’d teleport into the same room as one of the guys, and there would be a chance they’d get the blade from me.

Sure enough, the heavy booted footsteps echoing down the hall announced the arrival of one of the Winchesters. I blipped out of existence as the door clicked, barely catching Dean as he called out, “Hey!” 

A flash of black, and I found myself in the bunker’s garage. I grinned, admiring the sleekness of the old, shiny, antiques perfectly lined up inside. I’d never been a car nut, but I _did_ love old things. Antiquing was something I did for fun when Cheyenne and I were in college, but I didn’t have extensive knowledge. Really, I just liked antiques for their bodies. Guess I was a scumbag to inanimate objects. 

Then, I spotted the Impala. 

“Oh, my God…” I inhaled, approaching the iconic beauty. “Hey, Baby!” I spoke to her like she was a labrador puppy, waiting for a belly rub. 

Her black body shined brighter than any of the other vehicles in the garage. I knew Dean had to be the one keeping up with all cars, but Baby was cared for the most. The centerpiece of his collection. “Looks like Dean takes very good _car_ of you.” I snickered at my own pun. 

I wanted to pet her so, _so_ bad. Get fingerprints all over it, despite the care I knew he put into it. I wanted to hop in and drive her on the open road. Blare Dean’s old cassette tapes like I did in my bedroom in the late nineties. Explore the new world I’d drunkenly walked into, thanks to my stupidity. 

But, as mischievous as I felt that day, I wouldn’t steal Dean’s car. I did desperately want to ask him if I could drive her. I somehow felt that there’d never be a chance in hell. He barely let Sam drive her.

I didn’t blame Dean for his mistrust. Everything about the situation was suspicious. I’m sure my running off didn’t help, but the thought of losing the blade made me act like an idiot. But Dean Winchester was probably my favorite character in _Supernatural_. I wanted him to trust me. I wanted him to consider me as a friend. I gripped the blade tighter. “I guess… Dean doesn’t like me very much.” I lamented.

“Perhaps it’s because you’re being childish.” Castiel’s harsh voice came seemingly from nowhere, and I spun around to face him. I’d been so busy examining Baby that I hadn’t heard him come in. 

“Childish?” I echoed, the word cutting into me like a knife. “Cut me some slack, Cas. I’ve been in this universe for less than twenty four hours, and you guys have treated me like a monster since the second I got here. Pardon me if I’m not ready to hand my weapon over to you.”

He took a step closer, and I backed up against the Impala. “You have more than one weapon in that arsenal. The mark is making you hold onto the blade. I’m only taking it from you to help you, and keep everyone else safe.”

“Bite me.” I spat before carefully stepping away from the Impala to save teleporting it with me. I wanted to avoid having to explain how I'd accidentally wrecked his car by teleporting it onto his bed. 

Castiel vanished, and I found myself in the kitchen. I turned, only to be grabbed, and in an attempt to escape, collapsed onto the floor. Only when his massive body slammed into mine did I realize Sam was my captor. 

It knocked the air out of me, my head pounding harder than before. Not enough for the thought of Sam on top of me to send a fire through me. The irony that I was dressed like my boyfriend was all too real, and my lust came and went just like that. Sam took the opportunity to grab the blade while I was stunned. 

He looked me dead in the eye, the kindness he’d shown me before gone. “We’re risking a lot by trusting you.” He stood up, not offering a hand. “You should give us the courtesy of doing the same.”

Sam hesitated for a moment, then left the kitchen, calling for Dean and Castiel to announce himself victorious in my little game of tag. I reverted, my sweater and jeans replacing Megalovania. I remained sprawled on the kitchen floor like the piece of dirt I was. 

I should’ve just given Castiel the damn blade when he’d asked for it. Why couldn’t I just hand the damn thing over to him? 

Hedonism came with the mark. Nothing I did could change that. I allowed myself to gorge on food, but as far as self control went, I normally did alright. 

Now though? Sam barely touched me, and all I could think about were things I’d only ever wanted with Sans. What I _still_ only truly wanted with Sans. God, what the hell had gotten into me? I didn't want _Sam_!

“I don’t feel like _me_ anymore…” I tried to fight damned tears. “I’ve got to get this thing off my arm…” I ran my fingers through my hair, feeling worse than the dirt I mingled with on the kitchen floor.  
______________________________________________________________________________

Sam had found Dean and Castiel after getting the First Blade away from Brandi. Dean asked, “Where’d you find her?”

“She popped up with me in the kitchen. I grabbed her before she saw me.” Sam said, handing the blade to Castiel. “What are you going to do with it?”

“Hide it for now.” Castiel said. “Somewhere in the bunker.”

“Don’t you think we should hide it somewhere else?” Sam asked. 

“We tried that with Crowley, and look what happened.” Dean growled. “If we keep it here at least we’ll know if someone gets their hands on it or not.”

“Right…” Sam agreed. 

“Where is she now?” Dean asked.

“I left her in the kitchen.” Sam said, feeling just a bit bad. She looked hurt, so crestfallen on the floor. She had it coming, he reminded himself. 

A door slam echoed into the conference room, the three of them shooting their gaze towards the source. Dean smacked his lips. “Guess she went to her room.”

Sam thought about going to check on her. Maybe because he saw what the mark did to his brother. Because even though he didn’t go through it himself, he didn’t want to watch someone else go down the same path Dean had. 

He decided he’d give her space for the time being, and encouraged Dean and Castiel to do the same.  
______________________________________________________________________________

I’d gone back to my room for a while after that. I didn’t want to look at any of them. Dramatic as it seemed, I felt like I’d embarrassed myself to a point of no return. I just knew they'd hate me forever. 

So, I found myself on the bed, hugging a pillow and staring at the blank, brown walls. If I could get my hands on some pencils and a sketch pad, I’d be sure to cover my walls in doodles and sketches. 

In that moment, all I felt like doing was staring at the wall. Art covered or not. I excelled at staring at walls for extended periods of time. It started in these last few months. 

I wanted my potted best friend. Without a soul, Flowey was always honest. No filters or sugar coatings to bullshit me. I adored that about him. Though, he could be cruel, and called me an idiot more than I would've liked, he told me what I needed to hear. 

But I didn't have Flowey to go through this nightmare like last time. When everyone else died, abandoned me, or betrayed me, _he_ stayed by my side. Of everyone in the Underground, the soulless killer stayed true to me. 

A twinge of hunger stirred me from my thoughts, my tears finally drying up. I'd have to suck it up and ask if they'd feed me sooner or later. Either that, or I'd have to steal food, but I didn't want to resort to that. 

A knock on my door startled me. I gasped, sitting up and quickly wiped my face. “Come in.” 

Imagine my surprise when Dean poked his head through the door. “Hey.”

“Hey.” I mimicked.

“Cas and I are grabbing dinner. You want anything?”

“I’d kill for a cheeseburger.” He raised a brow. “Not literally.”

“C’mon. I’ll take you with us.”

“Sam’s not coming?”

“Nah, he’s, uh, looking into the book you mentioned.”

Right, I did bring up the Book of the Damned. I didn’t think I could look at Sam yet anyway. Not that he knew about my shame. It wasn’t like I acted on it. Didn't change the fact I felt horrible.

I followed Dean to the garage, finding Castiel waiting for us inside. I grinned as we got close to her, my eagerness getting the better of me. “Can I drive her?”

Dean looked at me like I asked if I could punch in the windshield. “Not a chance.”

“Come on! Why not?”

“I’ve known you for a day. You think I’m gonna let you drive Baby?”

Figured as much. I wanted to argue, but found I didn’t have the energy. I moved my gaze to Cas as he continued to stand, unmoving from the same spot. Maybe he… didn’t know where to sit?

“You can ride shotgun, Cas.” I offered. I gave no shits where I sat in a vehicle. 

“No thank you.” He said, finally moving to open the back door. “I’d rather not sit on a firearm.”

I thought he made a pun, so I giggled. Then I realized he genuinely didn’t want to ride on a shotgun. We both got in, escaping the awkward silence as Dean cranked her up, the engine purring. She smelled like leather, and home. 

Metallica was Dean’s choice of classic rock that day. I relaxed, knowing traversing this universe wouldn’t be difficult. It was the most similar to Earth of the three timelines I’d visited. 

We first stopped at a convenience store for beer, and Dean got himself some pie. He cackled when I asked if he got enough for everybody. 

Now, after season seven, the entire idea of Biggerson’s made the thought of eating their food unbearable. Dean assured me the burgers were worth going back, and that they didn’t have gray goop spilling out of them. 

“But they made the Turducken…” I argued. 

“They make more than just the Turducken.”

“But… they made… the _Turducken_.”

We left Castiel in the car, the daylight almost burnt out on us. I couldn’t believe a full day had nearly passed since my arrival. So far all I’d managed to do was throw up on their floor and make them chase me around the bunker. I doubted I’d be going home anytime soon.

We ordered at the counter, a fuzzy, scrawny brunette named Alex poked his register screen lazily, taking forever to enter the order. Once he finished, he gave us a total that I didn’t bother listening to. I waited for Dean to swipe his scammed credit card to pay for our food. When he didn’t, I looked between him and the cashier. I realized they were both looking at _me_. 

“What?” I snapped. 

“C’mon, hurry up. Pay the man.”

I gawked in disbelief. “You’re making me buy dinner? How do you know I even have money?”

“You’ve got money. How else would you buy all that armor?”

“I _create_ my armor. I don’t _buy_ it.” I hissed under my breath. Alex looked suspicious regardless. “And how dare you anyway? I've just fallen into this timeline, and you’re making me spend my hard earned money?!”

“After that little stunt you pulled earlier it’s the least you could do. Now c’mon, pay the man. Alex here has a job to do.”

“My wallets in my spatial storage.” I said, hoping he’d spare from requipping it. 

“No excuses. I ain’t your sugar daddy.”

“ _Fine_.” I said, requipping my sparkly, red Adventure Time wallet into my hand. Alex jumped back, his thin face sinking in as I whipped out my green debit card. I turned to face the card reader and asked, 

“Do you guys have the chip reader?”

“Uhh…” Alex managed to slowly moan. Talking didn’t seem to be his forte. He finally added, “...No?”

I noticed that Dean looked confused by my question as well. Then I remembered I was in the year 2014. 

“Oh my God!” I exclaimed. “You mean I can just swipe the card and I’m done? I don’t have to insert it?!”

“...Yes…” Alex answered, sounding really unsure of himself. 

“C’mon, hurry it up.” Dean ushered, getting irritated. 

I pointed a finger at him. “Don’t take this away from me. You take your card readers for granted, but oh, will you be sorry in about a year or so.” I turned back, swiping my card with a swift flick of my wrist. 

The machine beeped in disdain. “Uh, ma’am, it said… your card was… declined…”

“Oh!” I smiled, looking up at Alex. “Would you look at that? I guess you can’t use your bank account if it doesn’t exist in the timeline you’re in, huh?”

“I… guess not?” Alex answered.

I looked at Dean. “Well, how about that, _sugar daddy_?”

“Shuddup.” Dean sighed, pulling out his wallet. He defeatedly swiped his card, the machine accepting the payment so fast that Alex lost his place. The line of customers behind us sighed dramatically with relief when we finally moved out of their way. I grabbed our dinner, putting my wallet back in my spatial storage as we left the restaurant, heading to the Impala. 

I guess I was smirking, but Dean didn’t like my face. “Don’t look so cocky, or next time I’ll make you cook dinner.”

I shuddered at the thought. “Ohhh, you do _not_ want to eat my cooking, I promise you.”

“Well, you can’t just squat there, alright?”

“Yeah because it’s not like you didn’t just find the bunker and move yourselves in.” I scoffed. “Oh, and let’s not forget how you scam credit card companies for your money.”

“Hunting doesn’t exactly pay for itself.” I could tell I was making him mad. I took a moment to cut back on finger pointing, and to better explain myself instead. 

Sam and Dean had been through some shit. Any fan of the show knew that. I didn’t have the right to criticize him. 

“Yeah, I know, and you guys _should_ get paid. But it’s not like I’m bumming off of you because I don’t want to work. I do have a job back home. I work forty hours a week, and feel dead and broke like the rest of America.” I shrugged, trying to give him something to not kick me out. If Sam and Dean gave me the boot, I didn’t know who I’d turn to. 

“I can help you hunt!” I suggested as we reached the Impala. Dean smiled, leaning against the car. 

“Oh, you can hunt now?” He looked amused.

“I mean, I’ve never been hunting, but I’ve been trained to fight.”

“There’s more to hunting than just knowing how to fight.”

“Well, _duh_ , but I know a few things I learned from the show.”

“Oh, really?” Dean smirked. “How do you poison a vampire?”

“Dean man’s blood.” I said confidently.

“How do you know you’re dealing with a werewolf?”

“They rip the heart out!” 

“How do you kill a wraith?”

I opened my mouth to answer, but instead I said, “Uhh…”

“What about a rougarou?”

“Umm. What was that again?”

“A wendigo?” His grin widened, a gleam in his eye. 

“Okay, that happened in episode _two_. You know how many episodes I’ve watched since then?”

Dean shook his head, standing up straight. “You’re not going hunting. We’re not gonna babysit you.”

“Fine.” I sighed. “I don’t really want to kill monsters anyway.”

Dean looked at me suspiciously, and my heart jumped in my chest. He didn’t know… King Asgore had made me an assistant Human Ambassador for Monsters in another timeline. I was a beacon to represent peace between humans and monsters. 

But my monsters weren’t like the ones in Supernatural. They were kind, stupidly friendly, and wanted nothing but to live in peace with the humans. 

Not to mention Sans himself was a monster. I had a monster boyfriend, and the brothers had _no_ idea. I decided to keep it that way. 

Dean continued to stare at me suspiciously. “What?” I finally snapped, unable to take his piercing green eyes any longer. He kept them locked on me as he reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out my necklace. “My Samulet!” 

“Where did you get this?” He asked. 

“I got it in the Underground.”

He raised a brow. “The Underground?”

“It’s the world I traveled to before this one. Bratty and Catty said it just showed up in their stuff.”

“Bratty and Catty?” He asked judgingly. 

“Yes, the alley cat and alley gator.” I paused, watching Dean’s face, trying not to crack up. He looked like he wanted to press on, so I further explained. “They gave it to me after I fixed their timeline as a reward. I don’t know why it was there. _Supernatural_ didn’t exist in their timeline at all, so… I don’t know how it ended up there.” I paused. “Why did you take it from me?”

His face relaxed, as he looked down at the charm longingly. “I thought it was mine.”

I wanted to tell him his amulet was with God. I lied instead, knowing better than to tamper with the timeline. “I don’t know where yours is. I’m sorry.”

He hesitated before returning the necklace to me. I almost told him he could keep it, but my Samulet had become precious to me. It was one of the only other things besides a few memories that made it out of the first timeline in _Undertale’s_ universe. My reward for a deed that no one remembered. 

Dean opened my door for me without a word, and I got in carefully, setting the food bag on the floor board so I could put my necklace back in it’s rightful place. I caught a glimpse of Castiel in the rearview mirror. He looked incredibly uncomfortable, and sweat had formed on his brow. I turned to face him. “Cas, you alright?”

“It’s…” He croaked out. “It’s a little warm. In here.” 

Dean was hopping in the driver’s seat as I started on him. “Dean! You could’ve killed Cas!” 

He looked between the two of us before he replied, “...What?”

“You left Cas in the Impala with the windows up!”

Dean waved me off. “We were gone for five minutes! He’s fine!”

I pulled a water bottle out of our bag from the convenient store, handing it to Castiel. “Here! Hydrate yourself!”

He took it tenderly. “Thank you… You’re very kind.” 

He started drinking as Dean looked between the two of us in disbelief. “Don’t encourage her.” 

“Don’t encourage her to be kind?”

“What kind of role model are you?” I scoffed, taking the opportunity to irritate Dean.

“That’s it.” Dean said as he started up the car. “I’m about to leave _both_ of you here.”  
______________________________________________________________________________

Crowley sat, head in hand, staring blankly at the demon reading off a report before him. He sighed audibly, loud enough for everyone to hear. He didn’t bother trying to hide how bored he’d become. What was he prattling on about?

Rowena, his mother, sat next to him in a wooden chair, her posture the polar opposite of his own. Her body was upright, perched perfectly, and alert. The smile on her face hid the wickedness of the witch she truly was. Her satisfied smile filled him with disgust.

“That’ll do.” He said, having enough. 

“But, your majesty, you haven’t given us an answer--”

Crowley eyed the demon, his vessel scrawny, and weak. Mousy brown hair and disheveled to match how he quaked. The demons gathered around all looked to one another. Watching how to react. Pathetic. 

“I don’t give a damn. Proceed as you see fit.” He said firmly. “Now, get out!” 

Without a moment’s hesitation, the group left his presence. His mother, however, remained behind, standing up from her chair, and following them to close the door. Her heels clicked along the stone floor, the sound resonating in the now empty room. 

It’d been months since they’d recovered the blade from it’s attempted theft. Guthrie, that foul, mutinous snake. Crowley didn’t feel human emotions, but the news of Guthrie’s betrayal had him conflicted. How many more of them were conspiring against him?

Guthrie, of course, had no more meaning than the rest of his army. But after having his servitude for centuries before becoming the King of Hell, he felt… _conflicted_. The best word he could use to describe his frame of mind.

Rowena said he took the First Blade, but where was it now? They’d recovered it after Guthrie’s attempt of taking it for himself. Then, it just disappeared. The way she pranced around like the queen had him thinking foul things of her. 

Not that she made that difficult. 

His sudden phone call from Squirrel sparked his curiosity. The Winchesters wanted the blade back after all this time. He hadn’t heard a peep out of them in months. Not about the mark, their pet angel, or even just a simple hello. 

He knew Dean. He was hiding something. And Crowley intended to find it out. 

He smiled. Maybe he’d pull himself out of this slump after all. 

“Fergus,” Rowena said, approaching the throne. “You shouldn’t toss aside your duties as king because you don’t feel like being responsible.”

“I intended for you to leave with the others, _mother_.”

“Oh, but how could I leave when I could tell something’s troubling you?” She cooed, resting her hand on his shoulder. He peered up at her, not bothering to hide the disdain in his expression. She kept on despite that. “What’s the matter, dear?” 

“Nothing that concerns _you_.”

“Well!” She scoffed, pulling her hand back. “I’ve no intent to condone this kind of behavior. Come back when you’re ready to be more _polite_.”

Crowley was taken aback. “Really? You’re treating me like a child?”

“I _am_ your mother.” 

“Hardly.” 

She gasped, stepping back. “Fergus, I’m hurt! I’ve told you before, I know things were different back then, but I’m here to support _you_ now!”

“Is that right?” He continued to humor her.

“Have I done anything to prove myself guilty of a crime?” She bobbed her head sarcastically.

He hesitated, “Not _yet_.”

“Fine.” She turned up her nose, heading for the door. 

“What are you up to now?” He sighed. 

“Nothing that concerns _you_.” She said over her shoulder as she left the throne room, slamming the door behind her. The metal handles clanked, the sound echoing. Crowley waited, listening as her heel clicks faded further down the hallway. He didn’t want her following him, not that she could. Then again, who knew what his mother was capable of?

No matter. For now, he thought he’d pay his favorite moose and squirrel a visit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cas, Crowley and Rowena have made their appearances now! Yay!  
> I felt like I'd never get this chapter written. Sorry for the wait!


End file.
